


Engineering Destiny

by grand_mephy



Series: Rivals in a Dangerous Spacetime [7]
Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Spoilers, implied virtual reality, implied yakuza!Momota, traitor!Momota
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 18:52:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13794006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grand_mephy/pseuds/grand_mephy
Summary: [NDRV3 SPOILERS]T-minus thirty. With a sharp breath Momota slaps his cheeks, watching his reflection do the same. Red blooms on skin and water drips down his nose. Slowly, slowly. His clothes weigh heavy, his coat fluttering as he strides. Out the restroom, onto the stage."Hey," he says to everyone but the significant duo."Let's have a strategy meeting," he adds with a bump of his fists.(Momota does damage control.)





	Engineering Destiny

"It's time."

Momota squeezes the tap. Water drips slowly and the lights blink softly. He simmers in blue funk as restroom tiles pulse and glimmer around him, alive in their own codified compartmentalized programming. Monokuma's voice echoes once more.

"It's time, punk. The jingle's all set!"

_T-minus thirty._  With a sharp breath Momota slaps his cheeks. Red blooms on skin and water drips down his nose. Slowly, slowly. His clothes weigh heavy, his coat fluttering as he strides. Out the restroom, onto the stage.

"Hey," he says to everyone but the significant duo.

"Let's have a strategy meeting," he adds with a bump of his fists.

Minutes later the speakers blare,  _Let's kill each other_.

_Let's kill each other_.

They pass the library. Amami looks back.

"Sorry, I'm going to the restroom," he says with a wave. "I'll catch up later."

The others complain. Momota doesn't stop him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"Why the Game Room?" Ouma had asked.

"Duh, so Monokuma can't get to us easy in the basement," Momota had said.

Ouma looked at him like he was dumb which, given the instructions Momota receives, isn't entirely unwarranted.

Momota's supposed to be dumb, though. A special kind of dumb. It wasn't really outlined for him in the brief but he's been winging it these past few hours and he thinks he's cultivated it now. His special, conditional kind of dumb.

"Look pal, I don't care so long as you get the job done. Now get to sleeping! Tomorrow's gonna be busy!"

Monokuma punches through tiles and the room grows quiet once more. Amami's corpse lingers behind eyelids so Momota sleeps, and sleeps, and wonders about the mastermind who did everything. From ball to brain damage.

Maybe there is no singular mastermind. Maybe it's a council of them behind the screen, watching, waiting, moving pawns across the board and crossing names out of a list. Whatever the case Momota can't screw up. He can wonder and wonder and trouble himself with a galaxy of questions but in the end, he's a pawn in their game, and he should take comfort in knowing that he at least consented to that decision.

 

 

* * *

 

 

There's a new brief the next morning.

"Lucky you, getting some of the spotlight," Monokuma titters as Momota reads. "Boss thinks you'd be a great companion so long as you act the part. Cheer up the detective, okay? Build him up for the final confrontation. We can't have a spineless protagonist still grieving over his not-official girlfriend!"

Boss. Singular.

Momota asks, "Build him up how?"

"Do I really have to tell you how to do everything?"

"I don't wanna make mistakes. 'Sides, my job is damage control. Not cheerleader."

"What can I say? Boss changed their mind." Monokuma sneers. "From now on you're gonna mould that detective into something great. Something on a leash. Upupu! Can't have him sniffing around like he did with the door and the card reader. There's only so much we can do when brats start moulding their destiny."

Momota considers that statement. "Did you plan all this?" he says. "From the beginning. Did you know Akamatsu would die?"  _Did you program her to die_ , He nearly says.

"Nothing's set in stone! We had a feeling and we prepared for all outcomes. Creativity is the founding father of success and in this case, a creative murder led to the premiere of a kickass execution!"

Momota gives him an unimpressed look. "Oh, don't give me that," Monokuma grumbles. "Loosen up! You've got a protagonist to talk to. He won't buy that face."

Momota falls easily into the role. He coaxes Saihara out of his room in under nine minutes and the two walk to the dining hall, Momota's chatter filling the silence.

"Hey, Momota-kun?"

"What's up?"

Saihara gazes downward. "Do you think... it was my fault that Akamatsu-san died?"

"Nah," Momota says easy-breezy. The detective looks dubious but hey, that's the truth. It's not his fault. If it is, then it was made to be that way. There's a set character arc for Saihara and that's the truth. (A truth that's beyond the horizon but, Saihara's a step closer after ditching the hat and Momota feels slight trepidation at the prospect—)

He sees the twitch in Saihara's fingers; the constant brush of his bangs for a brim that isn't there. A brim that shielded him from the gravity of truths.

Saihara ditched it by choice. Who knows what that one decision will spawn in the future? Who knows how he'll evolve under Momota's tutelage? To see the truth better. To pick apart the lies around him.

Saihara needs to be watched. Momota's been handed the leash and he can't back out now, even if it makes him vulnerable. He's in too deep. The show can't afford another intervention from the grandmaster. There's only so much they can do. For the final confrontation, they need their protagonist rebirthed.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Ouma approaches him after dinner and it scares the living crap out of Momota.

"Come on Momota-chan, I just snuck up behind you! If you continue to act like that, someone might think you're on edge."

"Course I'm on edge! We're in a killing game, idiot!"

"We are," Ouma says in a sudden soft tone. "So~o! It's definitely noble of you to take Saihara-chan under your wing. You really believe in cooperation, huh? Even though that's what's making Monokuma target us."

Momota scoffs. "Monokuma would target us anyway! At least this way Saihara will have support, rather than mope all day in his room. A man's gotta move forward for his own sake and his friends'! So cut the crap with all this non-cooperation stuff, Ouma!"

"Nah," Ouma singsongs, twirling on his tiptoes around the taller male. "I like my way better. It'll help us find the mastermind!"

"Tch, you still think there's one?"

"You don't?"

"I don't  _know_... We couldn't find the fucker in Akamatsu's trial. Maybe  _Monokuma_ 's the mastermind and he has this accomplice who helps him out and stuff." Somewhere in the nexus of pixels, Momota can hear the bear shrieking at him.

He adds, "Or maybe it's a trick to turn us against each other. A trick  _you're_ falling for, by the way."

"Nah," Ouma says. "Not a trick."

_Then destiny_ , He nearly says.

"Then scare tactics," Momota says.

He goes to his room.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_You don't believe in weakness. You don't believe in cowardice. You inspire everybody around you. You never give up and you never give in. Not in the face of despair._

Momota flips the page. His backstory reads fantastical adventures fit for a seven year old; tales so tall they could reach the apex of the dome that traps them.

2 × π × 53.265² = 17826.40344 meters squared. A massive structure. The glass—likely three inches thick. Thicker if they think Iruma's a threat but Momota's sure they have a leash on her, too. Someone to reign her in when she becomes too desperate (and not in the sexual way). But she's a threat only cuz of her Talent and really, when Momota considers the rest, there's one other person that comes to mind.

Ouma. Ouma, and his penchant for distrust. The easy smiles, the blase demeanor. The probing questions.

"He's fine," Monokuma says once summoned. "For now. We always need a troublemaker in the cast. Let the brat run rampant! When the time comes, you can reign him in. Damage control, amiright?"

"It  _is_  my job."

"That's the spirit!" Monokuma spots his open file. "Studying, are you? Better psych yourself up; the detective won't buy a straight face tonight. What do you have planned?"

"Training. I'm thinking pushups."

"Nice.  _Very_  in character."

_T-minus one-twenty._  Momota gets up. "Hey, untuck your sleeve! You won't make a convincing case if he guesses why you're all covered up like that," Monokuma chides. "You're going to a man of the law, after all."

Momota looks at his ink. The color's faded over the years (much like his affiliation) but he's still miffed at the idea of covering it up. Then again, he's not supposed to show his tattoos to anyone. Only within ranks.

Really, they're not the first thing he's had to cover up.

"I got it! That's your enemy!"

"My enemy?" Saihara asks.

_Your destiny_ , Momota affirms.

He sets the coded cogs in place.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"Kami-sama has a plan for everyone," Angie had said that morning.

Momota wonders if it's cipher for the mastermind's intentions, Angie's preaching. Whoever they are, they seem intent on giving Angie a role. Momota wouldn't be surprised if she died any time soon.

As much as he loathes agreeing with Ouma, they  _are_  pawns in this game. They're leashed—tight. Traitor or not, Angie catalyses Yumeno's development, and Yumeno catalyses Tenko's development. Momota's responsible for Saihara and other meddling brats besides Kiibo (the conspirobot's leashed Iruma without conscious volition, and Momota wonders what it's like—being oblivious to damning a person).

"Nyahaha~! If you give up your greed, death will seem like a faraway cruise ship!"

Huh. Does He want something in the first place?

Does it matter?

"We'll give out the motive the morning after tomorrow," Monokuma giggles. "You'll get yours too, to make sure you're not thinking of being a dirty traitor. Hahahaha! If you're going to be a traitor, you gotta be on the right side! Me and Boss are the ones who are going to win, you know? We'll get our thrills—our chills—our kills—and you? Hnghh... you'll get your end of the bargain."

"Bargain?" Momota says, almost snarky. "You're blackmailing me."

"You saw the truth," Monokuma counters.

"Tch.  _T_ _ruth_. That damn word keeps getting staler..." The bear grins wider. Momota growls. "What?"

"You're starting to sound like him. The spaceboy."

He... doesn't know what to say to that.

"What's with the look? It's a good thing! Means no one's gonna suspect you. The real you, anyhow."

"Why, what's the real me?"

"Upupupu... You want my honest ursine opinion? You're Amami—but even more boring!"

As the bear cackles, Momota briefly, briefly wonders if Ouma's behind everything.

 

 

* * *

 

 

A theory that would hold much more truth if the liar before him wasn't so  _immature_.

"Woah! Huh, what?!"

Shirogane cups her cheek. "Ouma-kun, we're having a serious conversation here..."

Instead of feeling the slightest shred of humility, Ouma grins. "And is it written somewhere that I have to take serious conversations seriously~?"

"Tch, quit acting so immature!" Or Momota will slug him. Yeah, that sounds about right. That sounds like something Momota would do.

"Hm? I'm a teenager... So duh, I'm immature. Aren't you guys forgetting to act your age?"

Too blase. Too lax with the smiles and the gravity of their situation. They've just witnessed a memory from the Remembering Light—a memory that, while manufactured, holds  _truth_  for his oblivious castmates.

But Ouma takes it all in stride.

"We don't have to work together, though," Ouma says. "Let's just ask how we can get out~"

"If we ask Monokuma, he'll say the only way is to win the killing game," Harukawa points out.

"Oh, we're not gonna ask Monokuma. We're gonna ask the mastermind amongst us."

Momota stills.

Iruma sputters, "A-Are you already going senile?! I thought we agreed there  _wasn't_  a mastermind?"

"Hm, oh yeah. We did, didn't we?" Ouma hums. "If we tried to sniff out a mastermind again, we'd just repeat Akamatsu-chan's screwup."

Momota bristles. "You'd better quit messing around!" A meter closer and he could slug him. One punch death. Would it be worth it? He's used to designing aircraft with his hands, not splitting tendons.

Ouma looks genuinely confused. "Eh? You think I'm messing around? Aw man," he drawls with absolute  _disappointment_. "You really don't get it. I'm trying to get this through to everyone... If you keep saying all this uplifting stuff about _working together_  and  _cooperating_... then you can expect to receive some painful retaliation! Get it?"

... Is that cipher?

Know what—fuck this.

Oh, wait. Momota's dumb. So to keep dumb, he announces his intentions.

"Aaahh! He's gonna punch me! I gotta make a break for it!"

"Tch... damn he's fast," Momota says once Ouma dashes out of the gym. It's probably for the best that he doesn't chase after him. No need to get his traitorous ass cornered.

"I  _told you_ , let him run wild," Monokuma hisses. "He's stirring the pot as he should be, nothing more. Geez, it's like you've forgotten we're doing this for the drama and entertainment!... Regardless, you're doing a good job with detective boy so far..."

 

 

* * *

 

 

_You don't yield. You don't submit. You are reckless and aggressive. You always strive to fight for what you believe in. For who you believe in._

The words echo in his sleep even as noisy bear cubs drop off his motive—with a flutter of his eyes Momota sees them  _pulse_ , dewdrops of binary slipping in and out of his drowsy periphery. He knows what they are. What program they inhabit.  _He_  knows, and that's what got him in this  _partnership_  in the first place. Because he actually had a Talent.

There's a lot of fake shit in his bio but, not his engineering accolades. They're the goddamn exception.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The Monocubs screwed up.

"Damn cuties! I need to scold them for real! Grggh, should I shout at them or give them the silent treatment? Aargh, so many punishingly good options..."

Momota briefly considers stepping on the bear. "They mixed it all up. The motive pads." Dread claws at him. "Someone has my motive. A  _traitor's_   _motive_."

"We  _know_ ," Monokuma snaps.

" _I could be found out_ ," Momota snaps back, hands clenched as he rises from his bed. Monokuma is but a black-white  _speck_  to his rage.

"Cool your horses, spaceboy! It's already handled! After I gave them the first degree, they went back and erased the contents of your motive pad. That's all they had time for so be grateful!" Monokuma waves his paws angrily. Momota could care less.

"Who got mine?" he demands.

Turns out Saihara did.

"Mine didn't have anything in it... just a black screen." Saihara's confused expression speaks volumes. Everyone in the dining hall scrutinises him and Momota can't help his flare of worry when Ouma begins his round of questioning.

(He thought it was deathly foreshadowing that he'd got Ouma's motive video, but Monokuma begged to differ; "It doesn't have to mean anything. Consider it a safeguard for a possible plot thread. Now get moving!")

Momota wonders how much the mastermind's plan changed because of a single mishap. Is everything scripted? Plotted? Inevitable? The brief given to him was hastily printed, if the ink smears were any indication.  _Collect everybody. Discuss the motive. Advocate the exchange of motive videos._

_Including yours._

Normally, Momota would have followed the instructions to a tee. But he recalls Saihara's growing confidence, made weak only by his doubts—Ouma's growing distrust, made stronger with each curious piece of evidence...

So, he makes his choice.

All around him the walls bristle and Momota, not wanting to deal with vitriol late at night, locks himself in Akamatsu's study center. Daytime privacy at its best.

He's performing a glissando when Monokuma arrives.

"What in the damn salmon hunting hell was that?! That's the exact opposite of what I wanted you to do! Hey—! Don't give me that annoyed look! What's the one thing I circled for you in the brief?!"

"It's for the best."

"Don't mock me, you two time space wannabe!  _I_  know what's for the best. People get their  _own_  motive videos because they get to watch me threaten their loved ones. It's a tried and true tactic!"

"Trust me on this," Momota says lowly.

"Why should I?!"

"If they find out my pad has nothing, I'll be suspected. Or did you  _plan_  for that, too?"

There's no anger. Instead the bear grins ever so widely, teeth sharp as lies.

"Your pad  _had_  nothing," Monokuma clarifies. "If you need me to remind you  _why_  you're here,  _why_ you're working for  _us_ , I can tell you your motive easy. Tell, or threaten. Your pick,  _punk_."

Lies. There is no motive—He was blackmailed so He made the choice to work with  _them_. A faceless boss and a murder-crazed A.I. An entire council of chessmasters. An entire audience lapping it all up. What could they possibly threaten Him with?

He glances at his tattoos. The color's faded over the years. Like his affiliation.

_It should have_.  _He tells himself they don't matter anymore but blood runs thick—and so does ink--_

"Put it this way," Momota says: "If Ouma wanted to exchange motives, it means he has a plan... Non-cooperation might sound wrong but... going by Ouma's tricky as shit interpretation, it can work out in a cooperative favour. Especially if he makes it so everyone can know each other's motives.

"Even if Ouma's plan doesn't work, me promoting the idea will be just as bad," he says, going for the kill. "My job may be damage control but there's no salvaging a complete disclosure. Not when everyone still wants to cooperate."

Monokuma stares. Bits and bytes flash. His voice warps. 

"You're awfully sure that brat's up to something."

"I'm your traitor," Momota simply replies.  _No one else's_.

"Hrgnh...  _Fine_." Monokuma glares. "But don't go making decisions like that in the future.  _We_  make your destiny. Don't forget that—else I'll throw you in an Exisal mosh pit!"

Before he leaves he adds, "And punk! Don't visit this room anymore. Wouldn't want you getting attached."

Fingers skimming over piano keys, Momota nods.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"Why don't we invite Hoshi-kun?"

Momota blinks. Huh. He's never considered it. "Next time, bro," he says to Saihara as they lounge quietly under the wisteria arbor, under the dome that traps them beneath a bedazzling light show.

Saihara only nods. He's become more passive since Akamatsu's death and Momota vaguely considers it a waste.

The astronaut summons Monokuma once he returns to his room. Tiles burst into bit-squares in the wake of the bear's arrival; a blip in the fabric of reality.

"What, him?" Monokuma hums. "Hold on, lemme check."

He stands still for a minute. Momota strains his ears for anything, any communication he can hear in the nexus, a voice he knows conspires against everyone, perhaps even him. He hears nothing. Monokuma finally speaks.

"Leave him," is the bear's (mastermind's—) verdict.

Momota says, "That'd be out of character for me, wouldn't it? I'm supposed to hate weakness. I'm suppose to inspire everybody around me. I wouldn't let Hoshi mope about his lack of loved ones."

"There's no point. He's  _next_."

Momota keeps quiet.

"You'll get another brief in the morning," Monokuma continues. Then, "Boss says you did good. Keep it up and you might get their name." Then, "But don't hope on it."

Momota is restless that night. He dreams about the next culprit and how they'll do it. Why they'll do it. It never matters who or when or how—only  _why_. Why they  _want_ to do it. Why they'll go  _through_  with it.

He's more antsy at the night of Gonta's Insect Appreciation Meeting. Or, more accurately, a certain troublemaker's. The gravity of Ouma's actions only hits Momota the next day—the day of reckoning, of death, of destiny.

He watches Hoshi's skeleton fall to the bottom of the tank, and all He can think about is Ouma gripping Momota's empty pad.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He feels Monokuma's stare as everybody receives the second case file.  _Leash_ , goes unsaid between them.

_T-minus eighteen-hundred_.

Momota drags Saihara around.

"What's the matter? You wanna check that window out? Oh, it's too high up to reach, huh? Yeah, it is pretty high... Even higher than the piranha tank."

"Well, her alibi is a little shaky, but I don't think Harukawa killed Hoshi. That's what my instincts are telling me."

"Oh, handcuffs? They look like the ones in the tank. Or wait, are they the same?"

"Wait a sec, what's this? Look, there's weird scratches on the window frame. How amazing I am to have noticed such a super, ultra important clue... It's all in a day's work for the great Momota Kaito!"

Everything goes well. Saihara collects evidence like a good protagonist and Momota knows the case like the back of his hand. Everything runs smoothly.

Then the trial comes and Ouma opens his mouth.

"Nope, we should do something more fun... and I have the perfect idea."

Alarm bells ring in Momota's head. Monokuma shoots him a sideways glance and steadily, steadily, the astronaut grips the edge of his podium. He builds up an argument as Ouma keeps talking, and talking, and talking—then Ouma cuts the crap. Stares at all of them. Stares at  _Him_.

"You guys talk about teamwork and cooperation, but you're all afraid. You're too scared to point your fingers at others, so you hide behind the word 'trust'."

_Ouma knows_.

Ouma watched all the motive videos—he knows who they all belong to. Whose pad had been given to Saihara.

"If you're planning to expose a liar, you have to corner them psychologically... Only then will they reveal their true self as a liar-- _hiding behind a layer of deceit!_ "

Momota side-eyes Monokuma.

_Reign him in_ , is the bear's instant reply. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

_"Your job is damage control. Nothing more, nothing less. You got that?_

_"You'll get your freedom if you do your job right. But!, no guarantees with your special condition, courtesy of us! Upupupu! Don't make that face—you're supposed to be the spirited one!"_

 

 

* * *

 

 

"Who cares about that?! All I know is that neither me or Harukawa are the culprit!" He bumps his fists. "It's just a hunch I've got!"

 

 

* * *

 

 

He looks at himself.

He's tired. There's no bags under his eyes, no redness in his whites but he can see it in the slump of his shoulders and the world-weary jut of his face. His fatigue transcends the physical (programmable) state.

He slaps his cheeks for good measure.

Momota looks back at him. The SHSL Astronaut who never gives up and never gives in. Who swears to help his friends and end this Killing Game-- _no_ , is that too soon a development? What does Momota want right now? Peace? Hope? Victory?

What does  _H_ _e_  want?

The tile next to him sputters like the push flap of a bin. Monokuma spares no amusement when he says, "Wowsers, that was a tough trial! For a second I thought you or that assassin chick were goners! Nice comeback there, even if it did sound dumb as bricks. Guess that's keeping consistent with your character!"

Momota leans forward 'till his forehead thuds against the mirror.

"Ouma's a threat," he says. Upon recalling the recent revelation, he adds, "Harukawa as well."

"Yeah yeah, it's getting sorted. I talked with Boss before I came here and they said they'll give you a choice. One or the other."

"What?"

"Your next pet project," Monokuma clarifies. "You're doing wonders with detective boy. I wouldn't be surprised if he sprouted wings! So, Boss says you can choose the next one you'll leash. The liar or the killer. Which one, punk?"

Momota shuts his eyes.

"I choose neither."

Monokuma cackles.

"One or the other," the bear says.

For a brief second Momota wonders how easy it would be to  _talk_  to Iruma—to lead her to a certain passageway, to a certain  _room_ , to the heart of everything that operates this place under the dome the fake sky the cameras and the watchful eyes--

But he doesn't have that choice. Kiibo distracts her, anyhow.

The thought of their dynamic makes his stomach churn.

"If I choose Harukawa," Momota starts. It's so  _wrong_  to think about but, "If I choose her, you'll make something out of it. Just because she's a girl—and I'm  _me_ —"

"What, you're not interested?" Monokuma snorts. "Oh man! You're freaking out about a potential love interest but not the idea of that bratty liar putting you under a microscope? You got some loose screws in your head!" Momota flinches. "Hey, don't wimp out! We're giving you a choice here! One or the other! Liar or killer!"

A choice.

A choice...

He faces him.

"Ouma's the bigger threat," he says simply. "Harukawa can kill someone and make a spectacle out of it. But Ouma? He can ruin the Game itself. I point him in the wrong direction and he'll be none the wiser."

"He can have you figured out," Monokuma points out.

"Nah. No way."

"Aw, come on! Sure you don't wanna melt a tsundere's heart? Make this job of yours worthwhile? You  _know_  there's a chance you'll die."

"I know," Momota says. He's always known. 

_We make your destiny._

At least this way, He can control his demise.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Some dialogue lines were lifted verbatim from the canon game. Thanks to TurnipLord and their No Commentary Playthrough.


End file.
